Happy Ever After?
by questionablyalways
Summary: The story of Liir after Son Or A Witch. I haven't read Lion Among Men. Liir has settled in to his role as father, but can he ever really be happy when he knows there is so much more that he needs to do? bad, I know, just read if you'd like!


As he walked back in to the chilled house he immediately went to the fireplace. The crib wasn't far; he could see her as he stoked the flames. Almost instantaneously the flames rose and the house began to warm. He saw her little green head poke out at him, and for a second he thought he saw the same spark in her eye that he had seen in his own mother's all those years ago.

Liir began to prepare his and his daughter's supper, as he was mashing her food he thought that maybe this wasn't his daughter at all, maybe it was Elphaba, or some sort of reincarnation of her. The true events around her conception still evaded him. It had been almost a year since his return to Apple Press Farm, and Candle hadn't yet returned. He worried that Commander Cherrystone had gotten to her, but then it brought thoughts of resentment. Why had she abandoned him here with the burden of a green child? Cherrystone was never after her, she could have simply sent him away with ideas of where Liir had been. Now he couldn't carry out his duties to his late mother. He had to stay here and raise her again so that this baby Elphaba could fulfill her originals goals and dreams. Why did fate always seem to leave him as Elphaba's regent, or charge? Couldn't he once be a legend in his own right? Could he rise up and avenge all the Animals that had wrongly been killed or imprisoned? No, he thought, that was Elphaba's mission in life, and it would be passed to her reincarnation, not to her son. He felt once again what he had felt so many times before, he was a footnote to the Wicked Witch of the West's history. Even the history he had created himself was trying to be quashed by his over-zealous uncle before it had a chance to be told. Then, something else hit him. Chance. If Cherrystone had come here (And that is what he had come to believe) it meant that Trism had escaped. Was it possible that Trism had left to spread the tale of the heroics of Liir and the treachery of the Emperor to all of Oz?

Suddenly Liir felt a sharp pain in his hand. Shit, he had sliced into his own finger and bled all over the food. So much for thinking about things that were beyond his control. He wiped off the food and turned to the child. She was looking at him from her ill-built crib. Liir admittedly didn't know much about child rearing or the smarts of children, but this child seemed to be far more intelligent then Liir thought possible. She wasn't speaking yet, but it was as if she was refusing to until she had something to say. She eyed Liir as he put her food in her bowl. The child could eat on her own already, Liir assumed that if he hadn't been too terrified to giver her a knife and small mallet, she would prepare it herself. When he looked in her eyes he saw a wisdom that was beyond her feeble year, as if she already knew what her life was going to be, what she was put here for. Lucky she-child. Then, it occurred to him, it had been a whole year and he had never named the child. He had always thought a name was something the mother gave to her offspring when it fist attached itself to her breast for it's first meal. Candle had not left it a name, but then he thought, Candle had also probably not fed it from her breast.

He placed the bowl on the table and gingerly picked her up from her crib. The second she could she snuggled up against him and squeezed. It was apparent that she felt he was her father. Then she looked him in the eye, there was a connection that neither of them could deny. She was his. That is what she was saying to him. He was hers, was his reply. After all of his times failing to find love, he now had it, the true, honest, open love of a parent to a child. Unconditional and deep. She was his life and she would be until his death. He laid a kiss on her mess of dark hair (just the shade and texture of his, of Elphaba's), and set her into her seat for supper. She didn't require a lap to eat any more. And even if he tried she would climb down and find her own spot. Fierce independence, another trait of her lineage. He looked at her as he sat down. He had talked to her before while eating, but he ceased when he thought she might understand him and just not care to reply. Tonight was different, she was looking at him and pushing him to say the right thing, to ask the right questions

"Well, she-child, here we are, another dull dinner," He tried to meet her eye but he knew she was disappointed with that effort, "She-child isn't a very appealing name, do you wish to be called something different?" This time he looked up as she put her utensil down and sat up a little higher in her seat.

"Ezma," She chirped her response almost as soon as the last syllable was out of his mouth. "Ezma of the Centre" She corrected herself, "For you must be Liir of the South, and Granny was Elphaba of the West, and Grand Auntie was Nessarose of the West, and my shameful Uncle Shell of the North, therefore I am of the Centre"

He couldn't help but stare. How had she known all this? These were things he had told her when she was but days old. She stared back. "Well Alright Ezma of the Centre, but you should know I am not known as Liir of the South, and I do not intend on it happening anytime soon"

"And Granny never intended to be Elphaba of the West, or to be a granny at all"

He was right about one thing for sure, she had been waiting to speak until she had something meaningful to say. He took a bite of his bland meal (he never was much of a cook) as he chewed he thought of his response. She didn't mind, a thoughtful response was one worth hearing, she would rather have that then some idle chatter. "I suppose… Well, I suppose you are correct. And I also suppose that you have inherited more of you granny than I know so far."

She totted off her seat and went to him. Her first steps might have amazed any other audience, but to Liir it seemed oddly logical that she have perfect balance and posture for her first time. "I inherited more from my father than he knows right now" she said as she got herself positioned in his lap and hugged him. He cradled her there for what seemed like an eternity. They didn't need words to express the feeling between them. They didn't need words to convolute the communication they shared. They both understood that words were for thoughtful times, not to fill the silence.

After sunset Liir moved her crib out to the yard. It would be insulting to make her sleep in it now, she wouldn't fall out and hurt herself. He had already made a small bed for her, stored in the barn. He some how had known that this day was upon them. He moved the frame in first, and wished that he had Trism back to help him. Then the small mattress. He had set up her room with some makeshift drapes and a small table with a light. In the last year he had wandered back and forth to the mautery for small things for his child, and the maunts were happy to give him everything he asked for, be it broadcloth or books. Although he used to think the books might be above his child's head, he now knew differently. He put a blanket the maunts had made onto her bed. He considered not carrying her into her own room, and letting her find her own way, but when he came down to get her, she had drifted off in front of the fire place with her handmade doll tucked under her arm. He lifted her gently and she stirred a tiny bit, but it was just to adjust herself to his shoulders. He walked slowly, so as not to wake her, and he supported her doll with one arm so it wouldn't fall. As they walked up the stairs she stirred again. This time her tiny green head next to his ear, "Daddy, I love you most" she whispered sleepily, "But I will love other Daddy too, just not as much". This did not make much sense to Liir, but he shrugged it off, it was the dreamspeak of the young, he thought. He got her to her bed safely and tucked her in, in the lamplight she looked an eerie shade of green Liir could only remember barely from his own early childhood. He leaned over her and brushed her hair out of her eyes and laid a kiss on her forehead. She turned to her side and was fast asleep before Liir had turned off the light and left the room. He left the door open a bit so she wouldn't be scared if she suddenly awoke in the night. She would know his room was right down the hall.

As he stepped down the stairs he listed in case she stirred already, but she didn't. He began his decent to the kitchen to clean the dishes from that night and decide what he might do to keep his mind from wandering. But as he reached the last step into the kitchen, he knew something was off, no need to look up and see it. There was an odd smell in the air, it invoked a tense sense in the bones. As he looked he, he saw a ragged figure in the doorway. Had he not shut it? The light from the dying fire wasn't enough to illuminate the face, all he could tell was that the figure was male. For an instance his heart seemed to stop, his palms sweat was this Cherrystone come for his revenge? Or was it Shell himself, come to slaughter Liir and Ezma so there would never be more proof of his past?

"Liir," The voice was not Cherrystone, nor was it Shell, but Liir couldn't let his heart drop out of his chest yet. "I spread the word, Oz is waiting. There is an up rise about to begin, and you are to lead" It was Trism. As he stepped forward into the light Liir could see the marks of his work, he could see the scar running parallel to his perfect nose. His hair was chopped, as if to be out of the way, and his usual clean-shaven cheeks were now full of light stubble. He was still as beautiful as Liir remembered, just aged. He looked more like a mid-thirty, not a mid-twenty like Liir knew he was.

He let himself in the doorway and sat himself down, "I see you've lost the ability to speak in the year by yourself" He was still bitter about Candle. He had told her to leave. And he knew she had listened.

"I'm not alone," Liir let the words hang in the air to give Trism some doubt about Candle and his relationship. Why though, isn't this what Liir had wanted all this time? For one of them to come back, this one for more selfish reasons than the other. Then he thought of Ezma's words 'other Daddy' didn't mean instead of Liir, it meant with Liir. The child could read the future, she had inherited magic from his mother, her grandmother. "I have my child." He broke the silence, and Trism returned his gaze.

"So it is your child, I almost thought the simple girl was lying to you to get some sort of prize from the rightful descendant of the Emanate Thropp. Although, I'm not sure what that was," Trism was still bitter, but didn't he know the circumstances behind Ezma's life? He shifted his whole body away from the dying fire and towards Liir who still stood in the stairwell.

"She's mine, but not by my choosing, or didn't Candle tell you?"

"She didn't tell me. But how can she not be yours by choosing? You were there, you obviously know that she is yours."

"I knew she was mine when Candle left her to me. That and she has a certain hue about her"

"A certain hue of…. Green? Come sit," He patted the table as if to say, sit across from me, not next to me. "We have much to discuss"

"We do indeed. Can we start with where we stand?" Liir moved slowly, and took a seat, he didn't face Trism right away, he sat toward the fire. "I mea-"

"I know what you mean. I'm not going to address it though. We stand as leader and first General of the new Rightful Home Guard of Oz"

"We do not, I don't know about you, but I find it slightly inappropriate to take an infant out on to a battlefield to fight the oppression that we face"

"Fine, I understand your family obligations, but that does not mean that you must abandon your obligations to lead this uprising. The Emperor himself doesn't attend battles in person, no need for you to try and show him up. But we need a home for this new rebellion and, it only figures that it should be yours. There is enough unclaimed land around your homestead for our forces to tent down if they are not in battle, and they should be close to their leader for encouragement"

"Is that really what you came here for? To push me into a leadership I don't desire or deserve? You could have done this on your own, no need to involve me in this muck, not while I am responsible for a child and a home. You could have told them I went to my death trying to evade Cherrystone and that you felt you must carry out my mission," Liir now looked into Trism's eyes, and it became very apparent that this was not the sole reason for his visit. Liir was not planning to act like a giddy schoolboy though, the time for that was over. Nor was he going to apologize for his previous misguidance. Candle had not been his wife, and it had not been his decision to consummate that relationship either. "What is it you want to hear Trism?"

"I want to hear you say what you will," He looked back at Liir. His eyes betrayed his thoughts, he wanted to hear Liir tell him what would be in his heart. He wanted Liir to comfort him for his year of trouble. He wanted Liir to be the strong leader that only Trism thought he could be.

"Trism, I can't make the past any more then what it was. I am not going to tell you that I am sorry for not telling you about Candle. She meant no more to me than a rescuer; she put life back into me after your dragons had tried so hard to rip it out. The consummation of our relationship meant nothing to me, I wasn't even sure if it had really happened until I saw Ezma with my own eyes." Liir looked Trism in the eye with every word. At the mention of 'his dragons' he flinched ever so slightly, could it really be that he blamed himself for driving Liir into Candle's overzealous arms? When he said 'Ezma' Liir saw his golden eyebrows raise ever so slightly.

"Ezma?" Trism met Liir's eyes, "That is interesting, how did you come up with it?"

"I didn't. She chose it herself, quite literally. She told me earlier tonight that is what I was to call her"

"She is hardly a year, how did she…"

"She's a special child, you shall see in the morning," Liir let the last few words slip into a suggestive tone.

"Well I was hoping to merit an invitation, but I assumed you'd want me in the barn, did I assume wrong?" Trism's tone was lightening. He didn't want to discuss heavy matters until the morning, until the feelings of the night had been resolved. Military matters could wait until morning besides, the uprising wouldn't be quashed overnight.

"The barn? Trism, weather you know it or not, you have always, and will always be welcome in my bed," Liir's voice let on that he was almost disgusted with the idea of Trism sleeping in the barn, but in truth, that would have been where he had suggested unless Trism had said something.

"Liir, I'm not sure…about.." Before he could even voice his doubts Liir was on him, his lips passionately pressing to enter into Trism's mouth. He's tongue, gaining entry, met with Trism's at last; it had waited far too long for this reunion. Only, something was not as he'd thought it should be, Trism was pulling away.

"Liir, I told you the last time, we don't do these things where I'm from"

"And I'm not from anywhere so I am unsure of what you're saying"

"I'm saying these things you tempt me with are hardly what I should be wanting"

"I? Tempting you?" Liir held his position on one knee with Trism's hands in is own, looking up at him. Trism's eyes were fixed in his lap.

"Still, you have such a poor idea of yourself! You don't realize the effect you have on women… and men" Trism looked up to see Liir's confused face. He raised his hand to Liir's cheek, "Your almost perfect completion, white as the cleanest broadcloth could hope, and your eyes. I've seen nothing that compares to the deepest green that your lids conceal. I am sure your child is beautiful as well," Trism dropped his hand as Liir pondered this last statement.

"She is, but I have a bias opinion. Beyond that though, I seem to remember it was you who stood so stoically in the moonlight, showing his perfect rear side to me," Liir now lifted Trism's chin back up to look in his eyes.

"And I was there because you insisted I close the curtains. And you who led the way back to bed, and you who…"

"And I who bedded you first. I see, so, you're saying it was all against your will then? It was all I, Liir, the not-all-innocent virgin who corrupted you," Though he meant his tone light, it came out as somewhat of a jab to Trism's morality at the time they first met, "Trism, I've come to find that love is what it is. There is no right or wrong. One will love who they will on the different levels of compassion that they are capable of. It just so happens that I chose you to love"

"I suppose that is logical," Trism was thinking it over in his head, "But what of Candle then? Are you saying you did not love her?"

"I already told you, Candle was my savior, she gave my life back to me, and returned me to you. The only other love I have for her is that of the mother of my child, and at times, I doubt that is can even be called that. Ezma doesn't know of her, she never attached herself to Candle's breast like a child is supposed to do. As far as she is concerned she only has a father, well she did say something else tonight though."

"What are you going on about your child can speak, I can't believe it to be true," Trism's eyes were filled with doubt as Liir began to pull off his boots.

"I told you already that she was a very special child. She said to me tonight that she would always love me more, but she would lover her 'other Daddy' too," Liir slowly let the boot fall to the floor next to Trism as he drank this in. And for the first time he noticed the satchel as Trism let it drop next to his boots, just as slowly as Liir had.

"You mean…" His eyes almost glazed over in complete disbelief.

"Not only can the child speak, she can see the future, and the future she's seen is you here with me…and her. So can't you get over all these socialite rules you've trapped yourself in? Can't you just, love? Love me, love her. Be what we need, a second parent, a companion, a lover," Liir was now felt as if he were begging Trism to stay.

"Liir, I have learned quite a lot on my travels, but the one thing I lack is the ability to love anyone beyond you. I have tried to silence my heart's feelings because my head tells me they are wrong, but it's no matter. Whomever I have gone to bed with, I always wanted to return to you, man or woman. It doesn't make sense to me. Why I am so drawn to you, it might not even be the sex. I just want you," The pain was obvious in Trism's eyes, his heart had been begging him for one thing, and his head telling him that the desires were wrong. Liir knew just what to say.

"Trism, you are about to overthrow that very society that tells you our love is wrong, and the moral dilemma here is that you've been wanting to bed down with a man? Not that you have started a rebellion?" Liir couldn't honestly find the logic in Trism's thinking there. Trism chuckled at the thought.

"I suppose that's true," He looked up at Liir, "I'm going to be dishonored for my actions anyway, I may as well give in and do a little more dishonoring," He stood, and so did Liir. In the dying fire Trism thought he almost glowed with his pale skin. He couldn't resist it any longer, he pulled Liir into him and kissed him again. This was the kiss Liir had been waiting for. It was passionate and hard. As Trism nibbled on Liir's lower lip, he remembered why it was that had fallen for this boy in the first place.

"Come with me, after all that fodder you must be hungry," Liir took his hand and led him up the stairs to the main room. It was simple, a bed, a window, a table, a lamp, but that was more then they needed.

Liir had to restrain himself from ripping Trism's and his own clothing off so quickly. He wanted it to seem perfect. He slowly slid off Trism's cape, then let it fall to the floor behind him. Their mouths still entwined, they moved slowly towards the bed. It had never been flawlessly easy with them, but both bodies being fully clothed was harder than they thought it should be. Liir could feel Trism through his pants, and he couldn't wait to get them off, to feel him again. Trism had removed Liir's shirt and was working on the belt when he was suddenly picked up and put on to the bed. His head hit the pillow and almost immediately his pants were gone and his shirt was coming over his head. Liir had managed to get his own pants off as well, and there they were. They took a second to drink each other in before their hands found the places they belonged and their lips reattached. Trism moved his hand from Liir's cheek to his mane of hair that was tied back, and he worked it so that it would fall. A cascade of black fell around Liir's face making his pale skin and green eyes stand out more. Lying on the bed, entwined as they were, Liir holding himself up over Trism, who was trembling ever so slightly they could look into the other's eyes in the lamp light. It was a moment before Trism pushed Liir's head to his own and they resumed their passionate embrace. Trism could feel Liir preparing him for the night ahead, and he couldn't help but moan as soon as the first sensation of pleasure washed over him. He willingly let Liir flip him over and begin to enter him. With every thrust Trism felt closer to Liir then the previous year had allowed him. He could feel why not only his heart belonged to Liir, but also his body. Liir let little gasps of pleasure out as quietly as he could, no need to wake the baby. And Trism practically inhaled the pillow as a means of silencing himself. The slow rhythmic thrusts grew slightly faster, and Trism could hardly control, then he knew Liir was on the verge as well; he reached back and grabbed his hand as if to say 'I'm there too'. As they both came, they both let out moans that might have been too loud, but Ezma never stirred. Liir collapsed next to Trism and held him close. The kiss this time wasn't fast or hard, it was tender and slow, this was the kiss of a companion, not of a hot lover. This was the hold of a companion, they lay there, holding one another until they both drifted into a dreamless sleep of bliss.


End file.
